Badger: Remastered
by Morrowyn
Summary: Based (loosely) on The Badger Effect. Long story short: I fucked up. Short story long: I may have, kinda, sorta kidnapped Iceman...And murdered myself...and dated my brother...and saved Batman...Yeah. Rating subject to change. Vulgarity Warning.
1. Chapter 1

**I said I'd do it, and I did. Not sure if this still fits under Wolverine and the X-Men, but oh well. **

* * *

The snow fell in light little flurries that foreshadowed the coming storm. It's scent had hung in the air for weeks, the pregnant clouds obscuring the sky for half as long. _Soon,_ they said, _soon._

_Not soon enough,_ I thought angrily. _Fucking clouds_.

Beside me, my partner in crime snorted, his breath fogging the air in front of his face. I must have spoken out loud.

"You sure you got this, Hunter?" he asked, his voice low and rumbling and no where near as concerned as someone asking that question should be. "You don't have to go in alone."

I narrowed my eyes at him, snapping, "You just want to steal my kill."

He smiled widely, an expression made cruel by his elongated cuspids. "Don't make me come in there after you."

I rolled my eyes, huffing in mock anger. "Whatever, Victor. I'm leaving."

He raised blond eyebrows at me as I stood, dusting snow off my pants. "How're you gonna get over the fence?"

_Shit. _I looked at him, our eyes level even though he was still on his knees. "Gimme a boost?"

He laughed harshly, standing and dwarfing me as he always had. He grinned down at me. "Lead the way."

I sighed heavily before doing just that, stepping carefully on the thick snow so I wouldn't fall in. I wasn't quite bulky enough to break the surface - one of the benefits of being 4'11'' - and I might have enjoyed the sound of Victor struggling behind me, only he didn't struggle. He was as sure footed at I was, for all his monstrous size, and his footsteps left barely a mark on the snow. _Bastard._ As we made our way through the forest, if it could really be called that, my target became more than just a dot on the horizon.

It was a sprawling military facility belonging to the "Mutant Response Division", or MRD, of the American Government. It, like most military compounds, had high concrete walls and a ridiculously tall fence enclosing it. And, of course, the fence had an electric current with enough voltage to fry the Hulk. Not that that was a problem for me. I'd had worse. It was just... _inconvenient_ to have wait for my healing factor to kick in and save my ass, for all it wouldn't take more than half a minute.

That was half a minute I could spend on infiltration. And what mutant could resist breaking into the MRD?

Victor settled into a crouch, his large hands forming a bowl. "Alley-oop!"

With a running start, I set my foot into his hands and was unceremoniously launched over the fence. I rolled to my feet and froze, ears listening for the telltale thrum of mines. Catching none, I tossed Victor a thumbs up, which he returned, before heading toward the cement block in the snow.

Getting inside was surprisingly easy. Bringing a scrambler along was pure genius - hopefully Omega Red wouldn't need it for anything. With the cameras disabled, getting past the guards was a piece of cake. No one ever expects the little girl to know what she's doing. It's a fact of life that's saved my ass a couple times. My ass, mind you, not my life.

The facility's inside was very much like its outside : dull, cold, and grey with the occasional camera "skillfully" hidden from view. Honestly, the only way they could have made my job any easier was if they'd left their security codes on a memo in plain sight. Nah, not even the MRD would be _that_ stupid. I crunched in the numbers I'd pilfered from a database a few days prior and crossed my fingers behind my back where the console couldn't see. After a few agonizing moments, the little light in the corner of the number pad flashed green, and I allowed myself an internal fist pump. Pushing the door open slowly, I drew my 9mm and turned off the safety as I stepped inside. As I'd expected, there was no one by the doorway. This little validation helped to steady my pounding heart, still nervous despite all our experience. Deathstrike used to say I'd get used to it, that the adrenaline would eventually stop.

Now, tell me, where's the fun in that?

Stepping inside, it was only the high pitched distortion of a woman's voice coming through a radio that saved me from unnecessary conflict. Diving through a doorway, I pressed myself against the wall and sent up a silent prayer. Clunking footsteps and the tiny jingle of loose change signalled the approach of an MRD officer, his visor reflecting the hall around him. The whining voice blurred through the radio again, and he responded by turning it off.

Well, then.

I waited a moment more once he'd passed my position, then quickly darted down the hall in the opposite direction. Testing the air, I sifted through the expected unfamiliar scents in search of -

_There!_ I rushed down an empty corridor, following the scent of refried beans and Taco Bell sauce. Soon, I found myself in a large, open area, the midmorning sky a painful blue. Again, I put my nose to work, only to have my ears assaulted by a blaring alarm. My heart, which had finally managed to calm itself, took off like a startled rabbit. I almost followed suit - every nerve ending was begging me to - , but years of training had me standing still. Movement now, out in the open as I was, would be suicide.

For someone not _me_, anyway.

Smiling, I ran across the catwalk, leaping across a gap I hadn't even noticed to the other side of the room. Let them see me. It's not as if they could hurt me.

Sure enough, as soon as I threw stealth to the wind heavy footsteps could be heard in hot pursuit. Laughing to myself, I picked up my pace, almost giddy in the excitement. Then, I collided with something hard. Stepping back, I rubbed at my nose as I looked up. And froze.

_Shitshitshitshitshit!_ Wolverine wasn't supposed to be here!


	2. Chapter 2

**Why didn't anyone tell me that this chapter was Shit? Seriously. That's what the little box at the bottom of the page is for.**

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I looked up at the taller man, though calling him that when he was obviously below average height was a blow to my ego. His squarish face was twisted into a scowl, dark brows drawn down over startling blue eyes. He curled his lip at me and I promptly returned the favor, taking several steps back and adopting a defensive stance.

He glowered down at me. "Who're you?"

I resisted the urge to gag on his cigar breath. "No one you need to remember." Then I struck, fast and hard at his abdomen. He doubled over, grunting as I ran past. I'd caught him off guard, but I wouldn't be so lucky the second time. I needed to put as much distance as possible between us before he ripped out his claws trying to maim me. The mental image made me wince. I threw myself into an oncoming MRD squad to disperse my scent, all the while grinning like an idiot.

_Oh, when 'Pool hears about this, he's gonna die_. Not literally, but a girl can dream.

Speaking of Deadpool... The scent of peanut oil was getting weaker, and that could mean only one thing.

Cursing at myself rather loudly, I doubled back to where the Merc with the Mouth was being held.

"Hey," I called out, knocking on the thick metal door. "'Pool, you in there?"

"Finally!" He replied instantly. "You know, I was seriously beginning to consider starving myself."

I rolled my eyes at his dramatics. "Can you even do that?"

"Dunno, but I was fixin' t' try."

I snorted. "Ew, cowboy talk doesn't suit you."

"You're only sayin' that 'cause you're a Brit."

I rolled my eyes as I began checking the door for structural weaknesses. I didn't have much fire power on me - I really didn't need it - , but 'Pool might know where to get some. I opened my mouth to speak, only to have something cold and zingy shoved into it.

"So this is what you were after," the Wolverine spat, stepping forward angrily. Humoring him, I stepped back as well. "Ole 'Pool did call for help."

Huh, so I wasn't the only one who called him that. I spat out his claw.

"Nope, I just heard he was in a spot, and figured I'd get him out of it."

His thick brows came down in a scowl. "Now, why do I doubt that?"

"Because you have a naturally suspicious personality?" I suggested. His scowl deepened. "Oh, come on, Wolvie," I half pleaded. "Do you really want to do this?"

Apparently I wasn't as intimidating as I'd thought I was. He swung at me, extended claws almost doubling his reach. I fell into a crouch, narrowly missing a close shave, and rolled to the side as he came down in a clattering sweep. Six indentations in the concrete had me swallowing nervously. Which was ridiculous.

"Why the hell are you here?" He asked - growled, really. "What's 'Pool to you?"

That was actually a very good question. I shrugged. "Dunno, really. He's just, sorta, always been there. It'd suck to have him gone, you know?"

Wolverine's scowl twisted into a snarl as Deadpool cried out from behind the door how sweet I was being. I smiled. He struck quick and hard, his claws ripping through my clothes. I, of course, yelped as I rolled belatedly away, a hand flying to my side.

Wolverine's blue eyes widened, his mouth opening slightly. Yeah, I was pretty awesome.

Smirking, I stood and raised my arms out to the sides. "Oh, what now? Big bad wolf can't hurt this piggy." It really did hurt, though. The bruising was gone in seconds, leaving only that shadow of pain the brain creates because it insists that you must be hurt.

Logan scowled and fell into a better balanced stance. "What the hell are you?"

Now that was just insulting. "Same as you, Wolvie." Times ten.

The acrid scent of sulfur reached my nose, and I huffed poutily. Leave it to 'Pool to rescue himself. Not one to let him steal my glory, I swung at my opponent, hitting him square in the jaw. The stocky man spat blood to the side, growling at me. Confident that I had his attention, I ducked beneath his return swing and ran as quickly as possible. It may not have been the most dignified distraction, but it got him away from 'Pool's cell. Very quickly. For a man weighing in at three hundred pounds, he was certainly a speedy little bugger.

I rounded a corner, whirling in time to catch the older mutant by surprise. This time I struck low, my fist glancing off his ribs. He grunted, reaching forward with his claws. I dodged, landing a sweeping kick to his shin as I rolled to the side. He fell face first, barely catching himself. What little balance he'd salvaged was lost as an explosion, probably C-4, wracked the building. The alarm, which had finally stopped, began ringing anew, and I cringed.

"Logan," someone called. "What's going on?"

_Shit, I forgot about the X-men_.

Sure enough, there was a kid, no older than eighteen, jogging toward us. He wore the traditional black and yellow X-men uniform, sans gloves. Close behind him ran a short woman - still taller than me - with long brown hair pulled back in a high ponytail. They took one look at me and froze, looking back at Wolverine for guidance.

"Bobby," he ground out. "Stop her!"

The boy - Bobby, obviously -, acted very quickly. Before I knew it, my feet had been bound the floor with ice. I fell on my face, the thud of my impact hopefully earning a few winces. After pushing myself up onto my elbows, I was forced back down by a swipe against my back.

Jesus, what did Wolverine have against my shirt?

Bobby whistled. "Wow, Logan, looks like you've met your match. Or your claws have, anyway.

Wolverine growled again, and this time I gave in to the urge to growl back.

"Bind her up, Bobby," he said, pushing my face down against the cold metal floor. "We're taking this one with us."


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you, Ophelia Lokisdottir for the review! Loki shows up in this, just so you know. :)**

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I glowered. Quite impressively, might I add. There I was, sitting in the X-Jet with my hands frozen together and probably dying, and I had the X-children shifting in their seats. I smiled in a decidedly Victor-like way, and the girl looked away. Bobby, however, smiled back.

Crazy kid.

The jet touched down and was swallowed by an underground garage, and I made a mental note to have one installed at home once I got back. The ceiling closed up above us, and the jet touched down. As the door opened, I was greeted by the scents of several unfamiliar people. One of whom I wanted a closer smell of.

_Yum._

Wolverine grabbed my arm and jerked me roughly down the gangplank, practically dragging me across the garage. The scent of jet fuel and churros made me gag. Who on this blessed Earth thought it was a good idea to put those two in proximity?

As Wolvie pushed open a door and threw me into a room I instantly recognized as a kitchen. Crowded inside was the expected hodgepodge of mutants. Red haired Jean Grey stood next to the stoic Scott Summers, and good ole Ororo stood beside Professor X himself. There were a few others I recognized scattered throughout - namely Nightcrawler, my fellow native Forge, and Beast.

It was Rogue, however, who immediately caught my eye.

"Wow, so you're the one Victor wants dead."

Her green eyes widened. "What?" Her accent was adorable.

"You know, Victor," I gestured in vain with my hands. "He's super tall, has big pointy teeth, and a scruffy beard. No?" I sighed. "_Sabretooth_?"

Suddenly recognition spread across everyone's faces.

"Why would he want me dead?" Is what I think she said. It sounded like _Wah wood he waunt me deyed?_ Which was, again, adorable.

"Because you interfered in his fight that one time, remember?"

Wolverine growled in my ear. "How do you know Victor?"

I rolled my eyes, wrenching myself from his grip. "Same way you do, _Jimmy_."

His nostrils flared unattractively.

"Now, Logan," Xavier said in his cultured english. "I do believe that is quite enough." The crowd parted to let him through, some of the lesser known team members trickling back into the halls. "Now, who have we here?"

I raised my eyebrows in mock surprise. "Can't you tell?"

He smiled sweetly. "There's no need to be spiteful. Even if your mental walls were not as strong as they are, I would still prefer you tell me your name yourself."

I tilted my head back proudly, looking him in the eye. "Badger. You can call me Badger."

Xavier's smile widened. "Was that so hard?"

_Yes._

Again, Wolvie proved unimpressed.

"I'm putting her in the cell," he growled, reestablishing his vice-like grip on my arm.

"But that's in my workroom!" Forge exclaimed.

Wolverine cast a steely glare his way. "Are there neutralizers in there?"

"Well," Forge hesitated. "Yeah."

"Then that's where I'm putting her."

I rolled my eyes again as I was brutally dragged through hall's and down stairs. Soon, I found myself in a basement area with a row of bars between me and the student population. My frostbite inducing handcuffs melted clean off and I looked up, surprised to see a Bobby standing there, crooked smile in place.

"So," he began awkwardly. "Your name's Badger."

"What of it?"

"Nothing," he laughed a bit, scuffing the floor with a toe. "It suits you."

Jesu Cristo y la Virgen de la Guadalupe! The boy was _flirting_ with me.

Can't really blame him, though. The women in these parts weren't exactly...friendly sorts.

Looking the boy up and down, I decided he wasn't really all that bad looking, with his tousled brown hair and expressive dark eyes. Still a bit young for me though. I looked over his bashful shoulder at Dr. Hank McCoy, AKA Beast, as he came down the stairwell. His blue fur fascinated me to no end. Fur in and of itself wasn't very interesting, but _blue _fur, _that_ I could get into.

The hulking man adjusted his glasses, looking down at me kindly, and I instantly knew he was going to stick a needle in me.

"No," I said, unnecessarily surly. "I am _not_ giving you any samples."

Beast smiled, his sharp teeth gleaming. "Oh, that's not why I'm here."

I snorted. "Lemme guess. You already got samples and they glitched on you." I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest. "Why am I not surprised?"

Beast's expressive face gave away his guilt. "Well, yes. I was hoping you could explain the anomaly for me. Your DNA simply unraveled."

"That's what happens when you're on the business end of needles your whole life."

An awkward tension filled the room, stifling the X-Men. Good.

"Um," Forge flinched slightly under our combined gazes. "I have a neutralizer for, ah, Badger."

The _neutralizer_ was a simple metal ring just wide enough to encircle my neck. Forge clicked it open, looking at me hesitantly. I shrugged, stepping close enough to the bars that he could reach through -shakily- and collar me. I was fairly confident that it wouldn't work. After all, the idea that a man-made machine could somehow change the body I'd had since gestation was simply ridiculous. Now, people with psionic abilities, like Jean and the Professor, might be affected, but physical mutations were physical mutations. Trust me, if there was some way for me to undo parts of my freakyness, I would have.

As it settled against my collarbone, the neutralizer hummed quietly, and I felt a slight tingling run through my skin.

Holy shit, maybe it _was_ working!

I ran my tongue over my teeth. Nope, still vampy.

Beast and Forge walked away, their heads together as they discussed sciency stuff. Bobby hesitated, looking at me with something akin to awe in his brown eyes. Gross. Soon I was left alone, hands free and mind idle.

Not a safe combination.


	4. Chapter 4

**Tada! I hope you like it.**

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I desperately needed a bath.

Or maybe a quick shower.

Shoot, I'd settle for a dunk in the _lake _I know I saw on the plane ride over! Ok, maybe not that, but seriously! Did these X-Dweebs fail to notice my hair? My short, straight, _black _hair that made no secrets of its hygienic condition? I'd been on plenty of long, no-civilization-in-sight missions before, so being dirty wasn't exactly a hassle, but this wasn't no "I been doin' intense training in the wilderness" dirty. This was the grime of full on _neglect_. There are many things I pride myself on, but never this.

"Who's a girl got to kill to get a bath around here?" I asked no one in particular. I wasn't really expecting an answer, so I leapt to my feet - I'd been lounging - when I got one.

"I'd say Logan," Rogue drawled, her arms crossed over her fetching green uniform. "But I'd be lyin'."

Ok, then? "So, I _do _need to kill someone?"

She snorted. "Na, just come with me."

As she entered the code to unlock my cage, I almost plotted a brilliant escape plan, only I remembered her power to put people into comas as she sucked the life force out of them. No escaping for me.

I followed Rogue up into the mansion proper, shoving my hands into my pockets and avoiding eye contact as I made a mental map of the school. Rogue shoved open the door to a locker room, and I barely had time to follow before a gaggle of dumbass girls came running out. She stood there hands on hips, green eyes ablazin'.

"Well?" she asked. "Get showerin'."

While I appreciated the respect to my privacy, getting rid of my potential hostages was really a low blow.

Still, that hot water was worth it. I don't know whose shampoo I used, but _damn_ it smelled good. Like mangoes.

When I stepped out from behind the curtain, Rogue raised one eyebrow. "Done already?"

I shrugged as I threw on my clothing. It wasn't like I needed to shave. My conspicuous lack of body hair aside, using someone else's razor was just..._yuck._

Rogue stood, her hands in the pockets of her green jacket. Following her out, I ran hand through my hair, relishing its mangoey cleanliness. Rogue stopped short, eyes wide and mouth ajar.

"What?" Her gaze flitted from my hair to my face and I realized what had caught her attention. "Oh, this thing?" I asked, my fingers separating my one lock of white hair from the surrounding black. "It's nothing, really."

"Is it natural?" She asked as she resumed walking.

I nodded, "It's always been there. Part of why I'm called Badger; black and white, you know."

She hummed noncommittally and opened a door, gesturing with her head that I should go in first. I raised an eyebrow - this was decidedly _not_ the way back to my cell -, but said nothing. Judging by the musky scent coming from within, Wolverine was waiting for me, and I'd already tried his patience. Stepping inside, I was not surprised to hear the door close and lock behind me. The room was rather spacious, with a desk in the middle. There was one chair, which I suspected was for me, and a large window through which vicious sunlight poured onto the red carpet. Wolverine stood by it, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. No doubt he was trying to look intimidating. To anyone else, he might have been.

"Sit."

_Ooh, one word commands. Scary._

I sat, crossing one leg over the other in a showy display of nonchalance. It was all about dominance with us feral mutants, and the more I had, the less he could use.

His nostrils flared, showing he'd noticed my challenge and would act accordingly. He walked up to the desk, bracing himself against it in a way that made him seem taller.

"Who are you, kid?"

Had he been anyone else, I'd have been insulted. As it was, I sniffed disdainfully. "What is this, an interrogation?"

"Yes."

Well, alright then. "I told you, my name is Badger."

"Bullshit, your name's Badger as much as mine's Wolverine."

I leaned forward in my chair, a smile crossing my face. "Ah, but it's the one you identify with most, isn't it Jimmy?"

He raised his head, blue eyes burning with some inner fire. "You know Sabretooth."It wasn't a question.

I leaned back, rolling my shoulders back in a shrug. "Victor and I go way back, but I don't see how that's any of your business."

His gaze took on a dangerous glint, and I caught myself before I swallowed nervously. "I've known him for a long time," he said. "And I've never smelled you on him the way I smell him on you."

I cocked a brow, knowing full well that Victor's scent was now mainly obscured by that of mangoes. Then I shrugged again, "Like I said, Victor's a friend. He probably didn't want me involved in your vendetta."

Logan's hard face split into a cunning smile not unlike the one Victor often wore. "And why would he care?"

I suppressed a smile of my own, meeting his gaze head on. "Because he loves me." Confusion crossed his face and I laughed as I elaborated, folding my hands together in a villainesque way. "You see, Jimmy, when I said we went way back, I meant way back. I met Victor, oh, I don't know, maybe five days after my birth?" I cocked my head, tapping my lips coyly. "Or was it seven?"

"You're his kid."

I snorted, rolling my eyes as I examined my nails - which were ghastly - for added effect. "Hardly. Although, I supposed I do come close." I looked up into Wolverine's conflicted gaze. "My last name _is_ Creed, after all."

He looked as if he might say more, but turned away instead, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. I'd upset his equilibrium, set him off balance socially, and that put me at a distinct advantage. I pounced.

"Victor isn't my birth father," I provided, excitement setting my heart to pounding. "But I have been told that they were once good friends."

Before he could catch the hint, an alarm blared over the intercom, and we both winced at the intrusion. He spared me a final glance before rushing from the room, no doubt figuring his school was more valuable than any information I might have to offer.

How wrong he was.


	5. Chapter 5

**Favorite if Halloween is the most hectic part of your year!**

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I stepped out into the hallway, fully expecting to be assaulted by a waiting team of special agents. Instead, I had to press myself against the wall to avoid being trampled by oncoming traffic. People - students - were rushing up and down the hallway, older children tugging the younger ones along. I had to look away, fairly certain that I knew the cause of their panic. Slipping into the rush, I ran with the more battle ready looking students into what I assumed was a foyer. There was a huge chandelier hanging from a vaulted ceiling, two grand staircases curving up to an elegant over hang, a giant set of double doors that held the promise of freedom, and Deadpool standing in a puddle of his own blood, swords drawn.

I barely resisted the urge to sigh. Really, the man was an idiot.

"Hey!" He shouted, pointing upward with one katana blade. "I know you're here, Wolvie! Doncha wanna," he struck a Playboy pose. "Fanta?"

Oh, God.

I was about to shove my way to the forefront when Bobby came out of nowhere. I hung back, eager to see what he would do. With a power like his, he could freeze 'Pool and then shatter him. It would take him a while to thaw, and even longer for all his pieces to find each other. He'd be virtually incapacitated.

Obviously I over estimated his creativity, as he just blasted ice at his feet as he had with me.

"Lame!" For a moment I feared I had spoken out loud, but then relaxed when I realized it was only Deadpool. The Merc with the Mouth had broken free of his shackles, tearing the tendons in his legs in the process and falling flat on his face.

Seriously, though, what a waste of potential. Was his body made of _ice_? Wicked.

"C'mon! Is that the best you've got?" Deadpool yelled, pulling himself up through sheer force of will. "Where's Wolvie?"

"Right here, bub." The crowd I'd been hiding in had dispersed some, and I could now see Wolverine where he stood, claws extended, at the foot of a staircase. Somehow he just wasn't very threatening.

'Pool seemed to agree, as he laughed at the top of his lungs. Then, he became suddenly serious. "Where's Hunter?"

Damn him for using my real name. Had I wanted the X-Men to know it, I'd have told them. Luckily for me, they were rather dense and had no idea who he was talking about, and were whispering amongst themselves.

Sighing, I shouldered my way to the front of the crowd, inhaling in preparation.

"Hey, 'Pool!" I shouted over the din. "I didn't take you for the school girl type."

It was suddenly very quiet. Wolverine was looking straight at Deadpool, and as the less predictable target he was certainly deserving of scrutiny. Everyone else, on the other hand, was staring at me. Most of these kids hadn't been there for my introduction, so they were probably uber confused. Bobby and a few others exchanged glances. Deadpool cackled.

"Oh, look at you! It's been so long, I forgot how _short_ you were!"

I refrained from engaging him. "Bobby," I called, making a show of crossing my arms. "How many students would you say this place gets in a year?"

The hapless teen stumbled over his words and looked around for help. Someone must have told him telepathically, because he abruptly shouted "Twenty five" in a rushed, high pitched voice.

Hmm. So two and a half, then. Damn, I hated decimals.

"Oh, no," Deadpool began, shaking his katana at me. "Don't think I don't know what you're doing, Hunter. They won't pay you."

I smiled, running a hand through my hair as I stepped away from the group of students. "I know," I said, stretching theatrically above my head, stifling a real yawn. "I was thinking about offering a discount." Then I struck.

Flowing out of my hands-over-head position, I spun and lunged simultaneously, covering more ground than if I had done only one or the other. The move brought me within striking distance of Deadpool's sword, and I caught it against my forearm as I stepped into a defensive stance. There were several gasps from the assembled crowd, and I couldn't help but smirk.

It's nice being recognized for the marvel I am.

Beneath the mask, Deadpool's face contorted into a scowl as his aggression levels spiked. I noticed, and so did everyone else - part of the magic of Deadpool, I suppose. We jumped apart in a cinematic display of agility and stood still, watching each other.

In my periphery I could see Wolverine inching closer to our circle of combat, and my back stiffened in the human equivalent of raised hackles. He stopped. Sure, this was his turf, but this was my fight, fought for my reasons. Reasons I added to as Wolvie started moving again.

Seriously, dude? What part of raised hackles don't you understand?

Sighing, I returned my full attention to Deadpool, whose expression told me he was getting advice from his more intelligent self. The look of realization that crossed his mask told me that good ole Dreadpool had realized why I was fighting, and had relayed that info to his dominant counterpart. And, if his fighting stance was anything to go by, I had his full support.

I took a deep breath and nodded slightly, bringing my fists up to my face. Right on cue, 'Pool ran toward me, his blade raised high above his head, leaving his abdomen wide open. I straightened my right arm out to the side, gritting my teeth against the pain of tearing muscle and breaking skin as I swung it around, slicing through my old friend with the flat blade that emerged from my forearm. He fell to the ground in two pieces, squirming in place as he gargled out some nonsense about a cruel world. When he fell still, I looked up and met my father's gaze.

Flicking my wrist, the blade returned to its place on top of my radius and ulna, the perfectly straight cut on my wrist closing instantly. I turned away from Wolverine, looking straight at poor, startled Bobby.

"You," I ordered, jerking my head at him. "Come with me." Fear flashed in his eyes, and I almost regretted my tone. "You didn't think I did this for free, did you? I'm already cutting you guys some slack." I smiled slowly. "Or did you want me to take the extra one and a half people I'm owed?"

I saw someone pale, and Bobby clenched his jaw. His dark eyes flicked from me to Deadpool to something behind me and back. The teenager squared his shoulders, stepping forward despite the protests of his teammates.

Attaboy.

I bent over and pulled Deadpool's pistol from his hip, checking the clip before settling it into the empty holster on my belt. I looked over at Wolverine - who was still in shock - and gave him a two fingered salute.

"See ya, Pop."

The look on his face! Ha!


	6. Chapter 6

I am a terrible person. At this point, I'm fairly certain that's been established, but it deserves to be formally addressed.

You see, I just kidnapped someone.

No one paid me to do it, I just ... kind of did it. For myself. And now I have no idea what to do with him. What do teenagers even _eat_ nowadays?

Ugh, I'm acting my age.

Bobby cleared his throat, snapping me from my musings. We were sitting in a corner booth at Denny's, several days worth of walking away from the Xavier Institute.

I don't have a car, ok? Shut up.

Surprisingly, Bobby stayed with me the whole time. I was honestly expecting him to fly away or something once we were in the city proper. He probably thinks that if he does I'll go cash in on my extra one and a half people. Cursed by my own cleverness.

I crossed my legs, pouting petulantly. I could have just gotten rid of Deadpool for free instead of holding to my customary commision, but that would have compromised my principles. _What principles?_ A darkly male voice asked in the confines of my mind.

I raised my eyebrows, ignoring Bobby's curious glances. _Well, well, Mingan. It's been a while._

He snorted. _You are the one who sent me away, Sinopa._

I scowled at the use of my Blackfoot name. _Details. What did you find out?_

_It is as you thought. There will be an attack along the border of Namibia. I believe their goal is political, but you never know with groups like these. _

He was right of course. We'd been tracking the movements of an African anti-mutant group that made its name killing mutant children in isolated villages. The governments generally didn't do anything, and the native people's own superstitious nature made reports of violence scarce.

_How long until their assault?_ I asked, gnawing on my lip as my mind ran in circles.

_About a month, maybe more,_ Mingan replied, his voice weary. _I can't believe you're actually doing this._

I smiled up at Bobby, who was looking at his hands uncomfortably. "Robert," I began. "Have you ever been to Africa?"

His face creased in confusion as I stood from the booth, tossing a dollar's worth of tip onto the table. "No."

I nodded as he stood to follow me. "Tell me, Robert," I said as I lead the way out. "What is the extent of your abilities?"

He frowned, gaze shifting from person to person as we entered the throng of people. "I don't really know."

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. "Well, that's dangerous. Anyone with a brain can figure out your limits, and, yet, you 'don't really know'?"

He was silent beside me as it began to snow. I couldn't blame him. Many have reacted worse when confronted with the reality of their own ignorance.

"I'd _like _to know," he said finally. "Especially if my limitations are so obvious."

Ah, I'd hurt his feelings. I sighed. "It's not like I can just tell you. This is the kind of thing you either figure out yourself or not at all."

He hummed noncommittally, his breath fogging, and I felt a bit guilty. Only for a second, but still.

"Alrighty, then!" I clapped my hands together in childish glee - a look very few people my age can pull off. "It's decided."

"What's deci-!"

I grabbed his arm and all but dragged him down the sidewalk, humming evil Grinch music under my breath. It was going to be a glorious Christmas.


End file.
